Credits

Plot Information for Pruul

Seven children are destined to save Pruul and shake the traditions of the territory to their very core. In response, factions have broken the peace of a previously unified territory and violence has erupted across the dessert. It is a battle between the past and the future, the young and the old, and blood won’t stop seeping into the sand.

Ehsan is a man of poetry. He is intelligent, well read and lyrical in his speech. He was raised and instilled with the fierce protective nature that his father taught him that was the responsibility of all Blood Males. He was brought up with his mother’s powerful and skilled presence and it instilled in him a deep respect of the female side of the Blood. His Prince nature tempered some of violence and passion that all members of the Blood are prone to. He has a wandering spirit and can’t find contentment in remaining still. He is even restless when he sleeps, often waking to bedding skewn across the room during his nocturnal bouts.

Ehsan sees the world for its beauty, finding the best of things in people and in the world around him and it shows in the way he speaks. He is eloquent and descriptive in the language he uses because he knows that words can wound just as sharply as the best sword. His mother is such a strong influence on his life and he has the deepest respect for those who walk the Twisted Kingdom, growing up observing her in her craft.

Despite being a usually calm and rational man, he is prone to flares of dark intensity that usually cycle around periods of intense emotional stimulus. He usually tries to deal with this by seeking out a physical activity, much like a Warlord Prince would, if only because he learned this technique from his father. This usually translates into riding through the dunes, oblivious to the heat of the sun on his back. Ehsan is a horseman to his core, the blood of the Jinan flows hard and fast through his veins and while he might not be quite as obsessed as his cousin, he carries a strong passion for the animals that are partners to his people.

Ehsan is pragmatic and practical. He really doesn’t care much for politics and clan divisions. Of course he is loyal to his tribe and his people, but he doesn’t allow his own emotions to cloud his judgement on matters. He would be more likely to call out someone for the wrongful use of a specific Craft than he would about the morality of the usage. If he caught a Black Widow using the wrong poison, he would scold them about their mistake and care a great deal less about its intended victim.

Likes:

Open desert- Being trapped in Onn with the siege of the Worms, Ehsan feels suffocated and frustrated. He sits atop the walls of the city looking out at the moonlite sands and reminisces about his past nights laying out beneath the stars without walls or barriers around him.

Horses- Horses are in his blood, both as a member of the Jinan and from his own family. His uncle married into a large trading family and shared his same love of the creatures. His cousin seemed gifted with a second sense to the animals and beloved companions of his Clan. He might not be as skilled as some of the men in the Jinan, able to recreate everything they can do on horseback that they can do on land, but he has a deep respect and passion for his mounts.

Women - More than an appreciation for the opposite sex; which he carries in great quantities, Ehsan adores women. He views them as truly the greatest gift bestowed by the Darkness. Not only the embodiment of Mother Night incarnate, but as a remarkable being unto themselves. He would never suffer pain or sadness on any woman within his sphere and goes to great lengths to bring joy to any who require it.

Dislikes:

Paperwork - As a Prince who exceeded in his Craft lessons in Diplomacy, there was always the expectation that he would find his place within a Court, perhaps even as a Steward in his future. Ehsan finds that idea boring and dull. He hates being stuck inside surrounded by endless meetings and political dancing.

Cruelty - As one of the Blood, Ehsan understands violence and the aggressive urge of not only his gender but his Caste but abhors those who would inflict pain for the pleasure of the act and without direct cause.

Clan Politics- To be frankly honest, he doesn’t care about such things. Oh, he loves his cousin and would do anything for Simin but that is because she is a) family b) a Queen and c) a woman and he’s not sure which of those things are most important. Let the Courts squabble about other matters. He only cares about accomplishing the tasks set before him, and doesn’t let any alliances or divisions get in his way.

Fears:

Sandworms- What isn’t to fear about these creatures. As was seen at Tuono, they are capable of intense destruction and their poison brings slow and agonizing death. Capable of swallowing horse and rider together, they are a menace on the sands which until recent events was predictable enough to avoid.

Being useless- Ehsan needs a goal, a purpose, a direction in which to throw himself. He is and never will be a man who can sit back and do nothing. The boredom would drive him mad. More importantly he is terrified of being inconsequential and pointless; just another face in the crowd. He doesn’t seek glory but relishes recognition.

Having his Chalice shattered - With his work in helping heal the cracked and damaged Chalices of others, he understands how easily such a thing could be accomplished and how something of that magnitude can destroy a life. The very real possibility that in the course of his own work, or an attack by an enemy of darker strength could leave him shattered and lost in his own mind is a thought that drives his darkest nightmares.

Craft Strengths:

Diplomacy - Ehsan’s mother used to joke that he could charm a Sandworm from eating you if he put his mind to it, though he never thought to try. Still, Ehsan never argued that he was quite adept at using not only the power of words but the strength of his Craft behind his persuasive arguments in order to sway the listener to hearing and understanding his perspective on whatever matter was being discussed. A very useful gift indeed when dealing with stubborn and a hot headed Warlord Prince brother who insisted on doing things his way, which were usually the wrong way even if he didn’t want to see it.

Defensive Shielding- Often standing in as one of the travelling escorts for his Mother as she travelled in request of her skills, Ehsan focused much of his training towards the defensive measures of protection that might be required when encountering bandits or raiders out on the dunes.

Craft Weaknesses:

Psychic masking- Stealth is not a skill that Eshan excels at in any case. Call it just a force of his personality but none of his training regarding the sleuthier forms of craft seemed to flourish in him. He cannot hide his scent nor the scent of any in his care from detection and stranger still, even the spells of others to mask his scent seem to slide right off of him.

Sight Shielding- A strange quirk in his training, Ehsan is rather rubbish with creating sight shields. He can, and they are functional but only if he or his subject remains perfectly still. The slightest movement, even something as benign as a turn of the head or the movement of the hand and the invisibility of the shielding ripples away.

Ehsan was born to a Warlord Prince and a Black Widow, a couple whose passion was equally displayed in temper and love. Ehsan’s father was a scout sent to report back on the condition of the wild herds that roamed to the north of Pruul and was poisoned by a desert spider. Delirious with fever and hallucinations which weren’t themselves deadly but could cause its victim to wander aimlessly through the desert and eventually die of exposure, Jenir was fortunate enough to encounter a tribe of Tair on their way to chart the changes the last windstorm had made on the dunes in the area. Sefira recognized the poison and administered an anti-venom. They hated each other, the proud Jenir who refused to admit he was almost done in by a spider and the stubborn Sefira who found his arrogance equal to ingratitude. Her parents saw right away that their daughter had met her match for temper and attitude and they were right. Jenir left as soon as he was well but it wasn’t too long before he returned, saddles packed with belongings and intent on remaining with her tribe to pursue her. She didn’t make it easy in the least but within two years, they were lovers with a child on the way.

Ehsan was the youngest of three children and unlike his older siblings, he had no interest in the Tair tradition of mapping and charting the ever changing landscape of Pruul. He found it pointless. Sand moved and shifted in the winds, it was just as practical to map every single wave that moved on the water. The only thing he truly enjoyed about the lifestyle in which he was brought up was the travelling aspect and being constantly on the move and not stagnant.

When he returned from his Birthright with the Purple Dusk, his family had been pleasantly surprised. Both his parents and siblings all emerged at the White, and Ehsan had shown no greater talent or skill than any of them at such a young age. When he asked his mother, her response was simply, “It is what the Darkness has planned for you. It makes no mistakes when gifting your Jewels.” Ehsan adored and feared his mother in equal measure. Wearing the Rose, she was a highly skilled and treasured Black Widow, doubly trained and practiced in Mind Healing and poisons, which had proven fortunate for his father. He had always been fascinated by watching her at her webs, weaving and scrying into the twisted kingdom for answers and futures. It was she who taught him about what she believed was a Great Web, the hidden tapestry that all Black Widows tapped into when making their skeins, pulling a small portion of the weaving into their own world to view.

As with any young man of the desert, he was equally trained as a warrior and rightfully earned his Khanjar and his place within the al-Tair, proudly gifted with the tattoo on his sword wrist. His father made sure that both his sons followed the strict discipline of a Prullian warrior, no matter the paths in life they chose. Despite his skill with the sword, he rarely draws it, preferring working his way out of difficult situations with the skill of his tongue and mind.

With a Birthright Purple Dusk, his family had been certain that he would seek out the Clan Queen and offer his service in her Court. He was well educated and could easily assume a place as a second to a Steward if he so chose but Ehsan had never wanted that life. He prefered living under the open sky, without wall or roof to hold him in. His mother’s talent for Mind Healing and Chalice work had him frequently serving in her guard and escort earned him a reputation and his services were called upon by many of the Tair, especially in regards to young women who had been attacked by raiders. He had a particularly tender and gentle touch when it came to women that led them to trust him where most would be too terrified to let another male near them.

He never married and never took a serious lover, preferring not to find himself tied down to one place or person. He never misled any of his partners into thinking their daliences were anything more than short and sweet, though no less intimate. There was just far too much to do and far too many women to enjoy and savor, and he knew he was skilled to leave them pleased for the time he did spend.

When his youngest cousin Simin, who he had adored from the moment of her birth, rose from her Birthright with an Opal and the Clan Elders began to talk of preparing the young girl to assume the seat of the Clan Queen Ehsan had been outraged. Not that he didn’t think Simin could not rise to the challenge, he had seen her bring a wild stallion from a frenzy at just ten years old. No, he knew that she would lose that wild spirit that he cherished about her when they penned her into the strict and restrictive life of a Queen, and a Queen far too young. He saw their plan to use her Opal and then her Red as their own means of holding onto the power they had been given when the old Clan Queen died and no one was suitable to replace her.

When Simin had been declared old enough, though still far too young in his opinion, he travelled to Onn for the Spring Festival to see the woman she had finally become and to see what sort of males would circle her like hungry vultures. Oh Simin was part wild mare herself and would probably kick any unwanted suitors in the teeth, but he still wanted to see for himself. That proved to be an unwise decision, as he was present during the Sandworm attack and was now trapped behind the walls of the city and waiting not so patiently for an end to the siege and the chance to run beneath the open sky again.

Show Us What You've Got

Character in Play:

The light of morning was just rising over the walls of the city, casting everything in hues of shadow and streaks of light. Ehsan and three of his cousin’s trusted guards stood outside the gates of the Sabbah estate as they were slowly opened to their presence. They had not been eager to allow them entrance, and he wasn’t sure who the guards had to seek permission from, but with obvious resentment, the gates were opened to them.

The sight within gave him pause. Battle signs littered the courtyard, streaks of damage from power and fire decorated wall and pavement and the stench of death curled in his nose and made him sneeze from the pungent odor. The tattered remains of a celebration hung across strung decorations that moved from currents of air like ghostly arms. He had been told there was a wedding celebration being held when the attack occurred, the former Voice of the Jinan and her lover. Ehsan had never met Adavera, but he had heard good things about her leadership and great things from Simin. He knew his cousin had cared deeply for the woman and how much it had broken her inside to execute her exile. He had felt the vibration of pain that rang through her Chalice, straining her before something or someone had soothed and eased that pain.

There was a gathering in the courtyard, people tasked to removing debris and making sure all the fires had been properly extinguished. There was cheering, laughter, celebration and it made his skin crawl that anyone could find such joy in the refuse of so much pain. Worse of all, the dead had not yet been removed from where they fell, and some of those who were about took pleasure in degrading their remains, kicking them in some cases. Ehsan knew the rush of vanquishing an enemy but there was no honor in disrespecting the dead, no matter what.

“What does the Jinan Queen want with the body of a traitor,” sneered the guardsman assign to lead their group to their objective. Ehsan never looked at the man, taking in the sight around him as Simin had asked him to do. She wanted a full report from him on everything he saw or didn’t see, and though she had not said so exactly, he knew she would want to know if one of the dead he saw had been Adavera.

“He is kin to her Bonded,” he replied shortly, “and does this for him. She doesn’t trust that he will receive a proper funeral here. The Jinan understand the ties of kinship in ways that perhaps the Sabbah cannot.” The man opened his mouth to speak, obviously something unflattering towards either Bashir or the Jinan, and Ehsan didn’t care which it would be. Both would be taken as a slight against the wishes of a ruling Queen and he would take issue with that.

“We will collect the body and be on our way. We have no desire to stay here,” he said finally looking at the man before pulling out a letter crafted by Simin before he left. “As you have no Queen, take this to whoever remains of her court and see that they read this.” When the man started to sputter, Ehsan waved his hand dismissively. “It is well known in the streets already that the Lady Elenor Lirion al-Sabbah was murdered this night. Word has reached the Queen of the Jinan and she has responded.” That was all he would say about that. He didn’t know exactly what Simin had put in the letter but he imagined it would be filled with no less fury than her proclamation in the square that night. The Jinan would ride no longer with any of those who held allegiance to the True Sabbah.

There was a strange ringing in the air, not quite a sound but something softer than what the ear could hear. It might have been keening, if it were uttered by a human mouth but it resonated down his spine. His head jerked up, eyes sharpening as they drew closer. Pain, intense and staggering, he could almost taste the bitter copper of it in his mouth and looked at the men at his side to see if they were reacting to it as well. They were obviously on edge, given the surroundings, but no one seemed to be having the same reaction. So not a psychic scent but something more profound.

“The carcass is there,” said the man, pointing at the still figure lying in the dust just beside an overturned table. Ehsan glanced at the body and motioned his men forward to begin preparing him for transport while his mind was pulled just past it. Beyond the overturned table, he caught the hint of motion. A head covered in greying hair, and a hand reaching up before he heard a scream of terror.

“See to the boy,” he barked, hurrying towards the scream and towards that humming that vibrating beneath his skin and growing every louder with every step. He shoved the broken table out of the way to reveal a much older man, his face lined with dirt and tear streaked, his eyes dull and still filled with rage and pain. In his arms, her eyes wide and unfocused, was a young woman. Her dark hair matted with sweat and her face equally lined with dirt and tears as her hand reached out into the space between them unaware of his presence staring in horror at whatever was in her vision.

For a moment he felt… he didn’t know what he felt. The ground swayed and tilted and when he caught his footing, her eyes had closed and she had curled against the chest of the old man, her body taunt and grasping at his shirt. He knelt beside them, his hand touching the bare skin of her wet neck. She was burning up, her body consumed by a fever that was obviously driving some sort of hallucinogenic break. Fingers pressing a little harder, he watched the bloom of white halo his fingertips against the flushed red of her throat and frowned, lifting away his hand to watch the skin turn yellowish before returning to red.

“Poisoned,” he frowned lifting his fingers to his nose and inhaling a moment before his tongue flickered against the sheen of sweat that had come away before spitting off into the dust. His head jerked hard back at the old man who held her before rising up to his feet, shouting loudly. “Who is the half-trained Spider idiot who administered this much Blood Tears to this girl? She’s practically swallowing her tongue in terror.” When no one responded or offered any more information, he reached for the girl only to have the old man snarl at him in refusal, clutching her closer.

“She’s fevered and her mind is bending against the visions the poison is producing. Her Chalice is vibrating so hard I can feel it down my spine. Now, let me make sure she doesn’t shatter herself in her delusions or would you rather…”

She arched up, her mouth opening in a silent scream and jerked as if her body was being assaulted by various blows before falling limp again. Ehsan reached out to grip her shoulder to keep her from flailing and harming herself and her eyes flashed open. She looked at him, her eyes almost black from dilated pupils and then she seemed to focus on his face and didn’t look away. He met her gaze and felt that strange, dizzying shift beneath his knees as the world shook and rolled. Something in him reached out, seeking something to hold and grasp. She looked away, her eyes focusing on something just over his shoulder and pain flashed over her face. Her arm shot out towards him, but not towards him and her voice mewed softly, “Rasheeeed” she crooned before looked at him again.

He watched her face turn from pain to desperation and in a flash the vision changed. He saw her expression changed to one of dismay and begging. Her mouth began to move, speaking to some unseen entity but her words were jumbled together in a knot of sounds that made no sense. He wasn’t sure who or what she was seeing but as soon as it came upon her, it was gone and gave her a moment of reprise. This was the danger of the Blood Tears, it wasn’t a steady set of delusions but a rising and falling of intensity that the mind was unable to often unable to ride through unscathed.

“What is her name,” he asked the old man who had wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her arms to her sides. “Who is she and why was she poisoned?”

This character sheet has been inactive within the Keep's Registry for over 2 weeks. If you wish to keep this character sheet (including the Jewels rolled) you will need to reply to this thread within 2 weeks or else you will forfeit the character and the Jewels.

This character sheet has been inactive within the Keep's Registry for over 2 weeks. If you wish to keep this character sheet (including the Jewels rolled) you will need to reply to this thread within 2 weeks or else you will forfeit the character and the Jewels.